


The impossibility of death in the mind of Mr Eames

by immoral_crow



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 10:13:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4431311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immoral_crow/pseuds/immoral_crow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is such a nebulous concept.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The impossibility of death in the mind of Mr Eames

_Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?_

‘I missed you at work today, Arthur.’ Eames walked into the kitchen and poured himself a coffee. Arthur grunted and barely looked up from his laptop. ‘Seriously, this job is a farce and I have no idea at all why I took it – especially without you.’

‘Money I would imagine.’ Arthur was still frowning at the screen, and Eames walked round behind him, slinging arms around his waist and kissing the side of his neck. ‘I keep telling you, we should start taking our jobs together. Then at least you’d know they were well researched and I wouldn’t have to chase round picking up the pieces when you were being hunted or shot.’

‘Mmm.’ Eames buried his nose into the soft hair on the nape of Arthur’s head, smelling the product, the spicy aftershave Arthur favoured, the scent of his skin. ‘You make a convincing point. Next job, okay?’

Arthur huffed a laugh. ‘You always say that, Mr Eames. Now go get washed up. I’m making pasta for dinner.’

oOo

The job was going to hell, and even though he’d worked with Ariadne for long enough now to know she could hold her own, Eames never liked to see her under attack. 

He flung himself across the lobby of the hotel, dodging bullets, and landed next to her, pressing a new gun into her hand. 

‘Eames? What the hell are you doing here? Aren’t you meant to…’

‘Can’t pass by a damsel in distress, Ari. You know that. Now, if I were you I would fight my way to the lift and try to get to the sixth floor. Cobb’s up there and the two of you would do better together.’ 

‘But what are you…’

‘Can’t stop,’ Eames said, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. ‘Arthur’s still outside and I can’t leave him without his backup now, can I?’

Then he was off, trusting Ariadne to stay alive, and focussed completely on ensuring his point man lived to fight another day. 

oOo

There were times, in the quiet of the night, when Eames wondered how he had got so lucky.

Watching Arthur sleep – being allowed to see him vulnerable and warm, and like no-one else ever could see him – Eames would lie there, comfortable and secure and count his blessings, that the Gods he never could believe in for giving him this chance, when there were so many roads that would never have lead to this.

oOo

‘And fucking Dom… I don’t even know where to begin.’ Arthur was pacing backwards and forwards in their apartment, eyes flashing with anger, and Eames thought he looked magnificent. ‘And you…’ he turned round and pointed a finger in accusation at Eames. ‘You never fucking back me up when he starts on at me.’ He looked puzzled for a moment. ‘Where were you even today? You should have been there.’

Eames sighed and stood up, catching Arthur, holding his face in strong hands. 

‘Arthur, darling. You know why I wasn’t there today. I died three years ago in Minsk.’ The coffee mugs on the kitchen table rattled, the sound of a dream under stress that Eames knew all too well – had had the forced onto him, etched onto every part of his soul by now. He bent his head, kissed Arthur’s forehead. ‘You remember, pet. I know you do. We never got together, we never had this at all.’

Arthur looked at him, and for a fraction of a second Eames could see all the pain, all the loss that he knew Arthur would have wanted to keep hidden, then the moment passed, the dream stabilised, and Arthur smiled again.

‘Eames, your jokes never cease to impress me. Now, what would you like for dinner?’

Eames looked at him, his eyes infinitely sad. 

‘Pasta, darling. I always love the pasta you make.’

**Author's Note:**

> This was a gift for team angst in the ae-match. A gift that I never posted, but apparently I am now closer to the destroyed part of my heart. So, sorry about that. 
> 
> I always wondered if projections or shades knew what they were. Writing this kinda answered that for me.


End file.
